


Belief

by AthenaFangGranger26



Series: The Adventures of 'Lizabeth Page [5]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen, I APOLOGIZE, Little cliche, Lizabeth being a badass
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-03
Updated: 2013-10-03
Packaged: 2017-12-28 08:24:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/989864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AthenaFangGranger26/pseuds/AthenaFangGranger26
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lizabeth copes with Sherlock's death by going back to the streets.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Belief

I had left John in Mrs. Hudson's care yet again tonight. I couldn't stand to see him just staring into space, barely breathing himself. He didn't even try to hide the hurt in his eyes. The rolling pain that was there, and had been there long before I came home from University.  
His pain was killing me. I couldn't stand to see him like this.  
I tucked my dark hoodie closer to my body, the hood up and hiding my telltale curls. To passerby I was just a darting shadow figure in my black jeans and charcoal hoodie. Even my blackened rucksack was blending into the dark streets of London.  
For once I was glad that people like Lestrade and Mycroft didn't know all about my rebellious streak. I would never be a surefire culprit for what I was about to do.  
I ducked into a back alley. I made sure the move was graceful and languid to avoid notice from the people on the streets. I squinted at the alley opening, watching for any of London's finest out on duty.  
I lowered my hood and slid the rucksack on the ground. I shook my curls out, letting them fall around my shoulders like they always did. Now I was recognizable as the near-genius adopted daughter of the late fraud Sherlock Holmes. I was now identifiable as 'Lizabeth Holmes.  
I shook my head. Back on track, Liz. Do what you came to do then vanish. Like always.  
I reached into the rucksack, finding the familiar cylinder. I lifted the vibrant yellow spray paint can, giving it a mighty shake. This was all routine. Weekly routine.  
It'd be gone before next week.  
I uncapped the spray can and began my work. I was no artist, but I had a decent hand. It was clearly legible, and still artistic. It was a ten minute project.  
When I was finished, the can was thrown back into the rucksack. Once the rucksack was on my back, my curls were tucked back into the hood and hidden from view.   
I spun, pacing back to the back of the alley. I spotted a fire escape ladder and in a truly Holmes-like move I dashed over and yanked it down, climbing the steps quickly. The fire escape was the perfect route to the rooftop. I paused on the rooftop, toes barely hanging over the edge. I glanced down to view my handiwork, and clicking a quick photograph for keepsakes.  
I smirked to myself, as no one was there to witness it. Then I was off like a bullet across the rooftops. Back towards where I was supposed to be.  
Home.

"Dammit, Jim. Here's another one." An officer flashed his torch on the alley wall.  
His partner joined him in the alley and his torchlight quickly joined the other.  
"What kind of nutjob keeps painting these all over?" Officer Jim sighed.  
"I dunno. They're sure persistent though." The officer replied. "I'll go let the chief know. You stay here."  
His partner nodded, and kept his torch trained on the wall's new graffiti.  
'I BELIEVE IN SHERLOCK HOLMES. MORIARTY WAS REAL.'


End file.
